Taryn won’t tell me what Prince Cardan said to her. She insists that it had
nothing to do with me, that he wasn’t actually breaking his promise not to hold
her accountable for my bad behavior, that I should forget about her and worry
about myself.
“Jude, give it up.” She sits in front of the fire in her bedroom, drinking a
cup of nettle tea from a clay mug shaped like a snake, its tail coiling to make the
handle. She has on her dressing gown, scarlet to match the flames in the grate.
Sometimes when I look at her, it seems impossible that her face is also mine.
She looks soft, pretty, like a girl in a painting. Like a girl who fits inside her own
skin.
“Just tell me what he said,” I press.
“There’s nothing to tell,” Taryn says. “I know what I’m doing.”
“And what’s that?” I ask her, my eyebrows lifting, but she only sighs.
We’ve gone three rounds like this already. I keep thinking of the lazy blink
of Cardan’s lashes over his coal-bright eyes. He looked gleeful, gloating, as
though my fist tightening on his shirt was exactly what he would have wished.
As though, if I struck him, it would be because he had made me do it.
“I can annoy you in the hills and also the dales,” I say, poking her in the
arm. “I will chase you from crag to crag across all three islands until you tell me
something.”
“I think we could both bear it better if no one else had to see,” she says,
then takes a long pull of her tea.
“What?” I am surprised into not knowing what to say in return. “What do
you mean?”
“I mean, I think I could stand being teased and being made to cry if you
didn’t know about it.” She gives me a steady look, as though evaluating how
much truth I can handle. “I can’t just pretend my day was fine with you as a
witness to what really happened. Sometimes it makes me not like you.”
“That’s not fair!” I exclaim.
She shrugs. “I know. That’s why I’m telling you. But what Cardan said to
me doesn’t matter, and I want to pretend it didn’t happen, so I need you to
pretend along with me. No reminders, no questions, no cautions.”
Stung, I stand and walk to her fireplace mantel, leaning my head against the
carved stone. I can’t count the number of times she’s told me that messing with
Cardan and his friends is stupid. And yet, given what she’s saying now,
whatever made her cry this afternoon has nothing to do with me. Which means
she’s gotten into some kind of trouble all on her own.
Taryn might have a lot of advice to give; I am not sure she’s taking all of it.
“So what do you want me to do?” I ask.
“I want you to fix things with him,” she says. “Prince Cardan’s got all the
power. There’s no winning against him. No matter how brave or clever or even
cruel you are, Jude. End this, before you get really hurt.”
I look at her uncomprehendingly. Avoiding Cardan’s wrath now seems
impossible. That ship has sailed—and burned up in the harbor. “I can’t,” I tell
her.
“You heard what Prince Cardan said by the river—he just wants you to give
up. It’s a blow to his pride, and it hurts his status, you acting like you’re not
afraid of him.” She takes my arm at the wrist, pulling me close. I can smell the
sharp scent of herbs on her breath. “Tell him that he’s won and you’ve lost.
They’re just words. You don’t have to mean them.”
I shake my head.
“Don’t fight him tomorrow,” she continues.
“I’m not withdrawing from the tournament,” I tell her.
“Even if it wins you nothing but more woe?” she asks.
“Even then,” I say.
“Do something else,” she insists. “Find a way. Fix it before it’s too late.”
I think of all the things she won’t say, all the things I wish I knew. But
since she wants me to pretend everything is fine, all I can do is swallow my
questions and leave her to her fire.
In my room, I find my tournament outfit spread out on my bed, scented
with verbena and lavender.
It’s a slightly padded tunic stitched with metallic thread. The pattern is of a
crescent moon turned on its side like a cup, with a droplet of red falling from one
corner and a dagger beneath the whole. Madoc’s crest.
I cannot put on that tunic tomorrow and fail, not without bringing disgrace
on my household. And although embarrassing Madoc might give me a contrary
pleasure, a small revenge for denying me knighthood, I’d embarrass myself, too.
What I should do is go back to keeping my head down. Be decent, but not
memorable. Let Cardan and his friends show off. Save up my skill to surprise the
Court when Madoc gives me permission to seek a knighthood. If that ever
happens.
That’s what I should do.
I knock the tunic to the floor and climb under the coverlets,...